


Control

by Aurlana



Series: Dragon Age - Prompt Fills [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Cullen has control issues, Cullen is crushing on Alistair--unrequited, Cullen needs his Dom to let go, Dom Leliana, F/M, Hand Jobs, Japanese Rope Bondage, Leliana and Cullen are Best friends, M/M, Post blind date with Alistair, Praise Kink, Shibari, Sub Cullen Rutherford, Suspension Bondage, bondage as therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 05:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15136496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurlana/pseuds/Aurlana
Summary: Cullen has issues letting go of control.He's a recovering addict and refuses anything that might alter his state of mind--Including ejaculation.Leliana is his best friend and the only one he trusts to help him with his little problem.This is a response to Chapter Two of Ponticle's "First Dates" where Cullen and Alistair go on a blind date.This is my answer to the questions that occurred because of that chapter. ;)I am... totally not sorry.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [First Dates](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14798198) by [ponticle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ponticle/pseuds/ponticle). 



> Prompted From Chapter Two of Ponticle’s: First Dates
> 
> Cullen tells Alistair that he doesn’t drink coffee (or do anything else that could be considered altering) because he needs to maintain his control. -- I wanted to know if that included orgasms - and down the rabbit hole I went.

**Control**

* * *

Cullen leaves his date with Alistair feeling unsettled. It didn’t go anything like he expected, in fact. When he agreed to the blind date, he didn’t realize that the Alistair in question was _his_ Alistair. Reaching for the phone in his pocket, Cullen calls the one person he trusts more than anyone.

She picks up on the first ring. “Cullen?”

“Leliana,” he breathes shakily. “I… I need you.”

“I’ll meet you there _._ ”

It’s quick--concise. They’ve done this before. There’s no one else he can turn to; no one else he trusts--like her _._

He arrives ten minutes later. She’s not there yet.

He disrobes, folding his clothes and leaving them on the table right outside the Sanctuary door. It’s their sign--their signal for what he wants… needs.

He kneels on the padded floor--naked, hands gently clasped behind his back, head bowed--and waits.

Focusing solely on his breathing, he regulates each intake and exhale. Ten slow seconds to breath in, followed by twelve, even slower, seconds to expel all of the used air. Everything he does is with precision and constraint. It’s what he must do to survive, it’s what gives him strength to resist temptation. But, even the tightest wound springs sometimes snap.

Leliana is his refuge, his best friend, the one person in all of Thedas with whom he can let go. The only person he trusts to bring him the release his coiled nerves so desperately need.

He didn’t lie when he told Alistair that he purposely avoids all things that have the potential to change his state of mind. The risk of letting go is just too great, so he avoids it all: caffeine, alcohol, lyrium, orgasmic release. He can’t afford it. _Not anymore._ Submitting to any of these, creates a pull so strong that he can’t stop himself. The last time he gave in, he almost died, and would have if it weren’t for Leliana.

He took a vow that very night, that he would never let it h _a_ ppen again. Control is his refuge. Control is his savior. Control is his everything.

...except _here_. This is his Sanctuary, his safe haven; designed by Leliana with his specific needs and requirements in mind. When they began, they agreed that he needed a safe space, just for him. So, he paid to have one room in his house re-designed to Leliana’s specifications. Through trial and error, other modifications were made until they landed on the one solution that always let him give himself over fully: suspended bondage.   

Her heels click on the hardwood floor, a steady cadence moving closer to the door. Her voice-- barely a whisper--right outside, “Oh, Cullen.” His message clear by the way that his things are stacked, how badly he needs this. His garments folded—precise and tidy—largest to smallest. His shoes on the bottom, his neatly folded tie set in the center of his meticulously folded smalls. It’s all there to tell her that he needs to let go, but how desperately afraid he is to do so.

His breath hitches when she enters. The cool breeze from the main part of the house cuts off abruptly when she closes the door, at once cooling his heated skin and leaving goosebumps on the surface. He holds perfectly still. The sound of the door locking behind her, sealing his fate, protecting him, allowing him this respite.

_Permission given and accepted_.

He feels her walk a slow circle around the room. There’s no judgement in her movements. This is how she evaluates and formulates her strategy to best suit his current level of need. Will he be suspended face up or face down? Will she lay him flat--strapped to a board--before hoisting him into the air, or suspend him from the ropes wrapped around his body, using the pressure of the knots to dig into certain pressure points to aid in his relief? His only input lay in how he presents his clothes outside the room; once that door locks, every other decision is entrusted to Leliana.  

She eventually pauses behind him and places a steady hand at the base of his neck. “I am proud of you for calling me, Cullen.” Her words are firm, soothing. “You are learning to read what your body is crying out for. You’ve done so well.”

He hears the praise, but isn’t yet ready to absorb its meaning.

She runs her hands across his shoulders and down his arms. Leliana is patient with him; she always has been. She gives him what he needs, but she never makes it easy. That’s why they get along so well; she can read him like no one else and never takes any of his bullshit. She knows where he struggles most, and it looks like tonight, she’s going to take his own doubts and lack of self worth and counter them with praise. It also means, she’s going to make him talk.

Cullen takes a breath in resignation.

“I am so proud of you,” she whispers again, this time right next to his ear. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugs him tightly, then stands again with a soft kiss to his temple. “Let us begin.”

A tiny nod is all he gives her in acknowledgement.

She paces another slow circle, then rummages through the chest against the wall. “Tell me what happened,” she instructs.

“I went on a blind date,” he says simply.

“It didn’t go well?”

“It was… not what I expected.”

“That’s not usually enough to bring you to me. What happened?” She finishes grabbing whatever she was after and the lid to the trunk snaps shut with finality.

He lets the first loop of rope circle his wrists behind his back before he continues. “I… knew him. We went to school together.” Cullen sighs with relief as the ropes are wound securely up and around his arms and torso. The knots tied into place, holding him, restricting his movement. His first instinct is to tense up, but this lesson is about letting go, so with a few breaths, he does.

“You’ve told me that you didn’t like school. You were picked on and teased. He wasn’t one of those that... abused you, was he?” Her voice is protective and stern.

“No… though he said something today that makes me think he was aware of the teasing.” Cullen’s cheeks turn pink. “I didn’t… I didn’t even know that he knew I existed,” he says quietly.

“You _liked_ him.” Leliana states as she continues to weave the ropes in an intricate pattern. Each knot grounds him further into his safety net. She kneels next to him, working diligently in silence: listening, looping, watching, tying, securing him in—freeing him from his need for control.

“He always seemed so happy. They used to tease him too, but he was a master of brushing it off. He never looked bothered by any of it, like I was.” Cullen chuckles softly. “He was the class clown, always cracking jokes and making light of everything. But, he was kind and helpful too. Y’know?” Cullen sighs wistfully. “Alistair even helped me--once. He probably doesn’t even remember. Samson knocked the books out of my hand in the hall. I was already late for class and nearly in tears. Alistair swooped in, helped me pick up my stuff, then told me that I shouldn’t let him get to me so much, because he only feeds off our reactions. With a quick pat on the shoulder and an assurance that I was better than Samson, Alistair sauntered off down the hall.”

“He sounds like a good person.” She supplies.

“He was… He is.” Cullen amends then breaths into his binds, testing their tautness as Leliana’s nimble fingers work their magic. “That day may not have meant anything to Alistair, but it was the first time anyone ever stepped in to help me. The first… and last. Until you.”

Leliana finishes the elaborate knot work across his chest. Her touches are gentle but firm, and everywhere - bringing him the human contact he so desperately craves. She coos words of encouragement and acceptance into his ear. Giving him permission to want this, to allow himself to have this. They are alone; they are safe. He’s ok. Everything will be ok.

She listens patiently--she always does--reading his every nuance and twinge like they belong to her personally. She accommodates for his discomfort by changing one knot into another, redirecting the stress and energy so that it will more easily flow through him and back out again. This is what she excels at, reading him, and giving him exactly what he needs.

Cullen sighs with relief as she helps him lay on his side and grabs another rope to begin her work on his legs. She arches him backward as she works, drawing him tight like a bow as she works a similar pattern down his legs to match the knotwork on his arms. “Now, Samson… that’s a name that has come up before. Is he the reason you called me today?”

Cullen nods minutely, then shakes his head. “He ended up in the same rehab I was in. But, in the end, he wasn’t as lucky. The addiction consumed him completely until there was nothing recognizable left. Seeing him wheeled out to the morgue; that was my turning point. I never wanted to be like that--like him. Yet there I was, addicted to the same crap.”

He groans at her touch as she bends his knees further and rolls him onto his stomach, making sure his half-hard erection isn’t in the way. Face down, with his arms bound behind him, he waits patiently for her to continue her knotwork up his lower legs--completing the circuit; ankles to wrists, before he continues. “Alistair’s words stayed with me, telling me that I was better than Samson _._ At some point, I began to believe it.” Cullen sighs heavily. “Seeing Alistair today… I just couldn’t tell him--”

“Couldn’t tell him what?” she asks, securing the last knots.

“I couldn’t tell him—that I owed him my life. I couldn’t lay this on his shoulders too… something was different.” Cullen wiggled minutely to adjust his weight on the floor.

“Oh?”

“He was… different. His carefree attitude was gone. He looked almost defeated, like he finally let them get to him. It nearly broke my heart to sit there through our _date_ and see how far he’d fallen. I couldn’t…” He chokes back a sob. “He needs somebody, but--I can’t be that person. I’m too broken myself. As much as I want to be that for him—” He breaks down and strains against his binds.

Leliana soothes her hands over his cheeks, wiping away his tears. “Shhh, Cullen. It’s ok. I’ve got you. And I understand. You care for him _and_ hurt for him, but his hurt is not yours to feel. You need to let it go.”

He looks up and nods before closing his eyes again and relaxing into her palms. She’s right.

Of course she is.

“You are so brave and have such a sweet, wonderful soul,” Leliana coos as she attaches three support hooks to the ropes behind Cullen: one between his shoulder blades, one between his thighs, and one at the small of his back. Walking over to the wall, she releases the pulleys holding the suspension ropes. “I know you would help him if you could, but your job is to take care of you and you’ve done an amazing job of that today. You saw your limit, and even though it hurt, you drew the line and walked away. I can’t tell you enough how proud I am of you. Look how far you’ve come.” With another smooth swipe of her hands across his wet cheeks, she kisses him gently on the temple.

“Thank you for sharing this with me. After everything you’ve told me, we’ll be be sticking with basic suspension and release today--no blindfold, no ball-gag. What’s your color?” She quickly clips each of the suspension ropes to its corresponding hook and waits for Cullen’s answer.

Sagging against his ropes in supplication, he whispers, “Green, Mistress.” And with a sigh of relief, he adds, “I trust you.”

With a nod, Leliana walks back to the wall and slowly begins to use the pulleys to hoist Cullen into the air. She pauses with each tug of the ropes to allow him time to adjust and check on his progress. When she has him at her shoulder height, she secures the lines. Walking over, she takes in the intricacy of her work. Cullen is face down, arms and legs bowed back behind him, ropes criss-crossed over his taut body accentuating his adonis-like physique, leaving his erection completely free. He’s completely submitted to the ropes, head hanging low, eyes closed, and mouth slack in relaxation.

With a gentle finger below his chin, she lifts his face to look into his unfocused eyes. “You are so beautiful like this. I’ve never seen anyone submit so fully to my ropes.” She kisses him chastely on the mouth and guides his head back to where it was hanging comfortably. They’ve tried minimal constraints before, only restricting his hands and feet, but it’s never been enough. They’ve learned, through trial and error, that the only way he’s able to really allow himself to let go, is to be fully bound and suspended.

Leliana takes her time, running her fingers through his hair, massaging and gently scraping her nails over his scalp. She whispers words of love and appreciation, hope and achievement, strength and beauty across his heated skin. Each word punctuated with a gentle kiss, nothing more than lips on skin, this isn’t about erotic stimulation, this is about proving that he is loved and worthy of that love.

He cries silently as she lavishes affections on him. His cock, achingly hard, hanging free from all confines, is brushed occasionally, but otherwise left alone while she ministers to every other inch of his body. When she finally finishes tenderly kissing his exposed skin, she finally wraps her hand around the base of his dick, stroking slowly from base to tip. “You’ve been so good for me today, Cullen.” She says, cupping his balls with her other hand, while continuing to stroke him. “You came to me when you felt the need. You’ve bared your soul and are allowing me to take care of you. You’ve more than earned your release.”

Cullen whimpers.

Leliana puts a little more steel into her soothing voice. “Cullen, you _deserve_ this. I’ve got you, I won’t let you fall. I will never let anything happen to you. You came into this room and relinquished your control to me, so trust me.” She strokes him faster and commands, “Come for me, Cullen.” Then a moment later. “ _Now_.”

With a strangled cry, his body goes taut in his bindings as pulse after pulse releases from him.

With soothing words, Leliana skillfully strokes him slowly until he’s fully spent. He’s a tear-filled wreck by the time he finishes. It’s so hard for him to let go. But he does--for her. Only for her.

Kissing him on the lips once more, Leliana lets him rest in the secure comfort of the ropes as she cleans him up then takes care of the tears and come covering the floor. Once she has everything sanitized, she rolls out the mat and covers it with plush blankets and pillows, then slowly, carefully, lowers Cullen down.

He drifts in and out of consciousness as she unties him and massages lightly-scented oil into his rope-roughed skin. She manages to coax him into a soft pair of pajama pants, then makes sure he’s comfortable on the pallet.

When he arranges these sessions, they both clear their schedule for a full twenty-four hours. There’s no rush as she holds him and cares for him. She makes him drink, first some juice, then some water and makes sure his every need is taken care of. As long as the door to his Sanctuary remains locked, he is safe. He is hers. He doesn’t need to be in control.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you, to the amazing **Ponticle** who always gives me the best ideas for new stories I don't actually have time to write. _And_ for editing to make them look pretty. :)
> 
> I called in a second set of eyes for this one because of the specific content. So an extra appreciative--thank you--to **Dragonflies_and_Katydids** who went above and beyond to help me give this one a little extra spit-n-polish.


End file.
